


hold onto your heart (you're out of the woods)

by ravenreyamidala



Series: Ire fortiter [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, In Other Lands, In Other Lands - Sarah Rees Brennan, The Turn of the Story - Sarah Rees Brennan, Wings in the Morning - Sarah Rees Brennan
Genre: Attempts at Wit, Elliot Has an Honorary Ph.D in Sarcasm, Elliot is Opinionated and the Sky is Blue, Elliot's Opinions Should be a Character Tag, Everyone is Long-Suffering, Gen, Hogwarts AU, peaceful protests, this is really getting out of hand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12009438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenreyamidala/pseuds/ravenreyamidala
Summary: Elliot and Luke's first year at Hogwarts, filled with all the things you'd expect, if you were expecting peaceful protests, several campaigns against various injustices, and some other third thing that would be too spoilery to mention in the summary.Elliot has never been quiet about his opinions. That's not going to change now, even when people have the ability to Silencio him.





	1. outside the sky waits

**Author's Note:**

> next part! a little harder than the first installation, and it probably shows. not-betaed, so any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> disclaimer: i own nothing, except maybe my heart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to go to Hogwarts! That is, if Elliot can find the platform without being seriously maimed or injured.

September 1st shone its crisp, golden light upon Elliot as he laid in bed. He tried to hide from the light, but it was futile, and he was getting cold anyway, so he got out of bed, grabbed a sweater, and contemplated his bookshelves. 

Elliot was regretting only getting required books when he had visited Flourish and Blott’s. He didn’t even know if Hogwarts -- seriously, what kind of person names a school after something that sounds like a venereal swine disease-- had a library! These were the kinds of questions Elliot should have asked, but he had been too busy asking other obvious questions, like “does magic actually exist?”. Elliot despaired of himself sometimes, he really did. 

The school list had not said anything about normal school supplies, like notebooks, pens, pencils, binders, cellotape, staplers, and, the most important of all, Sharpies. He wondered if he needed a calculator, and tossed that into his trunk as well. Then he paused and thought about the trunk. There was no way all 1.4 meters of him could lug that around. He rummaged around in his closet and emerged with a suitcase almost as tall as him that had a pull along handle and omnidirectional wheels. 

An hour later found him packed. It was 9 am. He wondered if the train would be at the platform if he left now. Traffic might be bad. He looked back at the Hogwarts letter to see the platform number and then groaned. 

“Platform 9 ¾? What? That’s not even a real platform! Why is magic so bleeding weird?” he wondered aloud.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Luke had been packed for months. Or rather, Louise hadn’t bothered to unpack her trunk first year, and she had preferred the boy’s uniform. So Luke had just taken her trunk that had been gathering dust in the back of her closet for five years, ignored in favor of her bookbag with an undetectable extension charm. 

Luke was nervous. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to someone his own age (his cousins didn’t count. They were kind of weird). He said even less than usual at breakfast, which was probably why Dad took him aside to reassure him.

“Look son, I know you’re nervous. Just remember that everyone else will be nervous too. You need to be strong for them. As a Sunborn, you have a duty to guide and protect your peers, especially the Muggleborns. They’ll be scared and confused, and it’ll be good for them to have someone like you to look up to,” Michael Sunborn explained patiently to Luke. 

_We’re eleven years old_ , Luke thought but politely didn’t say. He nodded dutifully and went to panic gently in the privacy of his room, where no one talked about upholding the Sunborn name. He looked through the window at their Quidditch Pitch, wishing he could go for a ride, but Louise had decided gleefully to take advantage of Hogwarts’ loophole concerning the number of brooms a non-first-year student could own and taken his weeks ago. 

It seemed it was only two seconds later Mum was calling him to come downstairs with his stuff. He lugged his trunk down and stood in front of the fireplace with the rest of the family. Rachel Sunborn had managed to talk most of the family out of seeing him off for his first year of school, but his great-grandfather was there, like he was for when any of his descendents were going off to Hogwarts for the first time. Poppy grabbed Luke and gave him a warm bear hug, and Luke could feel some of the tension melt away from his limbs. 

“I know it’s scary, Luke, but trust me, it’ll be wonderful too. Try to have some fun, and don’t be afraid to break some rules. I’m always a letter away if you need me,” Poppy whispered soothingly, before stepping away from the hug and getting something from the couch. 

“These are the most useful books I could think to give you,” Poppy said fondly. 

He handed them to Luke. Luke read the titles: Quidditch Through the Ages, and Hogwarts, A History. Poppy tapped the latter, a fond look on his face. 

“Now, I know our family isn’t much for reading, but I wish I had read this when I was your age. Lots of good information,” Poppy said, before winking so just Luke could see it. 

Luke smiled. He looked for a place to put the books down, but he really didn’t want to open his trunk, so he just held them.  
“Oh, time for the Floo! Luke, you go first,” Rachel announced, taking her wand out and casting a temporary Bubble-Head Charm on Luke to prevent ash irritating his face. 

Luke took a breath of too-clean air, stepped into the fireplace, and took one long look at the living room before grabbing from Floo Powder. 

“King’s Cross,” he enunciated as he threw the powder down. 

The last thing he heard was Poppy’s laughter and Michael groaning about upholding family tradition.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Elliot was wandering around King’s Cross, utterly lost. As he had suspected, there was no Platform 9 ¾, and for the first time in his life, the Internet had failed to provide him with an adequate answer. He was flipping through one of his textbooks hoping for an answer when he passed by one of the newly installed fireplaces and something with approximately the force of a two ton truck slammed into Elliot and his suitcase. Elliot could only watch, distantly, as his mop of red hair headed towards a sharp corner, and he pictured the headlines tomorrow “UNACCOMPANIED MINOR TOO STUPID NOT TO FALL.” Maybe not the best of titles, but surely Elliot could be forgiven a lack of cleverness in the face of impending death. 

Except he didn’t hit that corner. His stomach hit what felt like a steel beam, and he lurched for a second before regaining his balance. He stood there, processing his heartbeat, the station, and the meaning of the universe, before turning to look at what-- or rather, who-- had nearly killed him. 

It was a boy his own age, tall and broad-shouldered, with golden hair, as if Nature had said “No worries, buddy, I gotcha, no nasty tiring thinking will ever be necessary, also, have a crown.” Blondie looked as confused as Elliot felt, the stranger’s buff (what need did an eleven year old have for muscles like that?) arm still hovering where Elliot had been pressed against it only a minute ago. A beat passed. 

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Elliot yelled semi-hysterically, noting that his voice had reached a pitch usually reserved for cartoon fae on TV. 

Blondie looked blank. Elliot was half convinced that if he listened closely, he could hear wind whistling through Blondie’s ears. 

“YOU DON’T JUST….COME OUT OF FIREPLACES. HOW ARE YOU NOT DEAD? WHY ARE THERE NO BURNS ON YOU? HOW DID YOU CATCH ME SO QUICKLY?” Elliot continued to yell. 

Blondie was starting to look panicked and was waving his hands frantically. Elliot noticed that people were starting to stare, which did not bode well for Elliot. He was, after all, an unaccompanied minor, and he wanted to be sure the platform didn’t exist before NSPCC put him in a home. 

“What is going on?” Elliot whispered furiously. 

Blondie was saved by answering by the appearance of a girl just as blonde as him showing up. She was very grown-up looking and her hair was all done up in a coronet of braids, and she was about the most beautiful person Elliot had ever seen. Elliot carefully didn’t swallow his tongue, but it was questionable for a moment there. 

“Lukey!” she exclaimed, “There you are. Mom was right, it’s funnier when it happens to someone else.”

Lukey blushed and murmured something about a fluke. Elliot thought about that for a moment before he realized that Blondie’s name was probably Luke. Around this time, Elliot finally found his tongue. 

“Hi, I’m Elliot. Your brother almost killed me,” he said to her by way of introduction. 

She grinned at him, sunny and unconcerned. Elliot didn’t understand why he was charmed by that. 

“I’m Louise, Little Red,” she said, setting her bookbag down and stretching with the sleek power of a waiting lioness. 

Elliot’s mouth went dry. Louise straightened up, and looked at Blondie, who hadn’t apologized or anything yet. It didn’t seem like he was going to. Elliot rolled his eyes and went to pick up his textbook. Luke got there first and passed Elliot his book and picked up his own. When Luke looked up, he flushed some more. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. 

Elliot opened his mouth to comment on the sincerity of the apology, before looking at how tall both Luke and Louise were, and deciding to take his wins as he got them. 

“Just try to think more,” Elliot snarked. 

Okay, so Elliot still hadn’t met a single battle he wouldn’t take as a personal affront. He was maybe working on it sometimes.

“Come on Lukey. Don’t want to be late for your first year of Hogwarts, do you?” Louise teased as she padded away, footsteps light despite the heavy-looking boots she wore. 

Elliot’s ears perked up. Since he’d rather chew his arm off before asking for help, he stealthily followed them. He had to rub his eyes when he saw Louise disappear through the brick pillar between platforms nine and ten. 

“Literally platform 9 ¾. Of course, the genii of the magic world put the entrance through a wall. No convenient, only visible to magic people signage either. How well-bloody-thought out,” Elliot grumbled to himself. 

Luke looked around and caught sight of him. Elliot resolved to practice walking around sneakily, since it was obviously an area he needed to improve. Blondie gave him an awkward little wave and then walked through the wall. 

_What an idiot_ , Elliot thought. _Why on earth would you walk through a wall in front of someone you don’t know is a wizard?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you enjoyed, please kudo+comment! even a one-character comment can fuel me for next installment!


	2. see his picture (hanging on your wall)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to get Sorted! Elliot (surprise, surprise) has many many many opinions.

Elliot went straight to find a compartment once he was on the platform. He knew better than to try to make friends ever. Elliot had “doesn’t play well with others” on all of his report cards. Exercises in futility were not fun.

After rummaging through his things, Elliot found a book he was ninety nine percent sure he had not bought, but looked promising anyway: Hogwarts, A History, Revised Seventh Edition. He wondered for a moment where it had come from, before realizing that Blondie must have accidentally picked up the wrong book. 

He was settling into the compartment and enjoying the silence when Blondie walked in (without knocking! How rude) with someone Elliot mentally christened Surfer Dude. Blondie had changed from earlier-- he and Surfer Dude were both wearing dresses similar to what Commander Woodsinger had worn.

“Do you mind if we seat? Everywhere else was full,” Blondie said, before sitting down without waiting for Elliot’s answer. 

“Even this is to be taken from me,” Elliot muttered darkly. 

Elliot began wondering what kind of manners people were taught in the magic world, since Blondie hadn’t even waited for permission to sit. Elliot was quite aware that he didn’t own the compartment, but it was the principle of the thing. Desmond Dobbs hadn’t owned the corner of lockers on the second floor east wing, but that hadn’t stopped Dobbs from beating up Elliot whenever Elliot had to pass the lockers to get to the school library. Elliot scowled. Blondie frowned. Surfer Dude kept smiling. 

“Don’t worry, little guy. I know this must all be very confusing for you, since you’re from the Muggle world and all,” Blondie finally said. 

Elliot didn’t know what a Muggle was, but he decided it was probably an insult, and the only way Elliot knew to answer an insult was with an insult. 

“This is all terribly confusing,” Elliot agreed. Blondie smiled, relieved, and Elliot held up a hand to stop him saying anything. “I was so hoping,” Elliot continued mournfully, “that somebody would come explain all this to me. Preferably someone who would do it in small words. And you two look like the small-words type.” 

“Sure, what do you need explained?” Surfer Dude asked earnestly. 

Elliot rolled his eyes and saw that Blondie’s sweet blue eyes had narrowed. He tilted his head and grinned. 

“First off, this,” said Elliot, and produced his phone from his pocket. It looked a bit melty and was sending off sparks. Surfer Dude nearly banged his head on the luggage rack with how high he jumped. 

“You’d better give me that,” Blondie said. “You could hurt yourself.”

Blondie reached for the phone. Elliot held it away, but knew that this was a temporary stopgap: Blondie had a good six inches on Elliot and a much longer reach. 

“Nope. It’s mine,” Elliot said. 

“It’s about to go on fire.”

“It’s my thing about to go on fire, and not yours,” Elliot said firmly. “Now, why has my only method of communication gone up in smoke? Are we all kidnapped? Are we going to be ritual sacrifices used to resurrect some sort of Dark Lord?”

Blondie paled. 

“I-I-I thought you were a Muggleborn-- how do you know about that?” Blondie stammered.

Elliot stared, and in the act of doing so, brought his arm down. Blondie took the moment to grab Elliot’s phone and tossed it out the window, but Elliot was too busy processing what Blondie had said to be indignant about a silly little outdated phone.

“Are you telling me that schoolchildren have been used in ritual sacrifices to resurrect a Dark Lord? A DARK LORD? No one said anything about a Dark Lord!” Elliot said, dismayed. 

A small part of Elliot took comfort in the panic that appeared on Blondie’s face. Elliot never claimed to be a good or particularly likeable person. 

“No, no-- I mean yes, but it was only one person and it was ages ago!” Blondie answered frantically. 

“One person is one person too many! How am I supposed to know it won’t happen again? Why did I even consider trusting people who wear funny dresses, there’s clearly something wrong with all of you,” Elliot retorted. 

Blondie’s mouth gaped like a fish, but no sounds came out. He finally just walked out. Surfer Dude looked at the compartment door, then at Elliot, and beat a hasty retreat. 

Elliot smiled victoriously to himself, and then settled in to read his book. He had a lot of questions-- the fireplace thing still hadn’t been answered, and he wanted to know precisely how big the library at Hogwarts was.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Elliot had only put on his robe because it was September in Scotland, and he didn’t want to catch his death of cold. He huddled with the other first years at the lake bank, wondering why exactly they had been herded over, when the answer became clear to him. 

“Oh no,” Elliot said, with dawning horror as the boats came in view. 

The other students boarded the boats like obedient little sheep, but Elliot stayed right where he was standing. The supervisor frowned at him and motioned him over. 

“I think I’ll stay right here, away from the pre-pubescent children in boats who might do something stupid and get us drowned,” Elliot yelled over the wind. 

The supervisor rolled her eyes, waved her wand, and Elliot found himself in a boat. He sighed mournfully but resigned himself to his fate. 

It wasn’t that bad, if one could ignore the cold wind that got even colder with the help of the lake and the fact that Elliot lived perpetually in a state of near-hypothermia. And then the castle appeared. 

Elliot knew he had dropped his jaw, but it truly was an amazing sight, and he was utterly gobsmacked by it. For a second, he understood the appeal of fairy tales where everything goes right without any consideration for pesky things like class differences, politics, or money. The moment was shattered by someone in Elliot’s boat standing up. 

Elliot and his boatmates arrived at Hogwarts, soaking wet. Elliot was grumbling about how apparently there was no drying charm in the wizarding world when Blondie sighed and switched robes with Elliot. 

Elliot grasped it close, and looked suspiciously at Blondie. 

“You know, the polite thing to do is at least say thank you,” Blondie said. 

“Hah! That’s a bit rich, coming from you,” Elliot murmured. 

Blondie rolled his eyes and walked back to his friends. As they waited in the foyer, Elliot gradually became aware of the other kids’ conversations. 

“I’m going to be a Gryffindor,” said Surfer Dude, puffing up his chest. 

“Like that wasn’t already obvious,” sneered a blonde girl Elliot mentally dubbed Goldie. “Gryffindors are more brave than clever, and from the looks of you, I’d say you haven’t cracked open a book in years.” 

Blondie looked like he wanted to come to Surfer Dude’s defense, but bit his tongue. Elliot decided to stop paying attention to that conversation, but he did make a mental note to talk to Goldie later. 

Another group-- this one mostly girls-- was having a similar discussion over in another corner. 

“I think my mum would disown me if I’m not Gryffindor,” a girl commented, unironically. 

“Tell me about it. My da said that if I get Hufflepuff I shouldn’t bother coming home,” a different girl added. 

“My family’s been Ravenclaw forever. Grandmother said if I’m not Ravenclaw, it’s probably my mum’s fault, and they’d take me out of Hogwarts to homeschool me,” a boy interjected. 

Just then the doors opened, and a different supervisor from the boating supervisor beckoned them in. They waddled in to be greeted by hundreds of kids looking right at them and a rather ratty hat on a wobbly stool. Elliot was rather uninterested in the hat until it began to sing. At that point, Elliot contemplated just walking out altogether, because wizarding world logic was the worst he’d ever seen, and he’d seem Ashley Sinclair’s maths homework. 

The hatting supervisor began reading off names. Each kid would go up, sit under the hat for a variable amount of time, before the Hat said things like “GRYFFINDOR!” “SLYTHERIN” “HUFFLECLAW.” Okay, so maybe Elliot had stopped paying attention, but that was because he was busy compiling a mental list of objections to the whole thing. The first thing on the long list of objections Elliot had to the whole process was just lice. They were eleven years old, for god’s sake. Statistically, at least one of them had it. 

Then, it was Elliot’s turn. 

“Schafer, Elliot!” called the sorting supervisor. 

Elliot didn’t move. 

“Schafer, Elliot!” repeated the sorting supervisor. 

Elliot continued to stand, rooted to his spot. They could force him to move, but not without a fight or magic. Magic was beginning to seem kind of unfair to him. 

“ELLIOT SCHAFER!” roared the sorting supervisor. 

Elliot could see Professor Woodsinger at the Head Table. After the most recent repetition of his name, she looked directly at him. Elliot knew the jig was up, and walked forward. He did not sit on the stool. 

“Sit on the stool,” hissed the sorting supervisor. 

Elliot did not sit. 

“It’s time to get sorted, Elliot,” the sorting supervisor gritted through a smile that was decidedly fixed around the corners.  
Elliot decided to spare her teeth the shear stress the sorting supervisor was putting them under, and spoke up. 

“No,” he said clearly, pitching his voice so it carried across the hall. 

The sorting supervisor continued to smile. Elliot noted that his effort to spare her teeth had gone in vain. 

“What do you mean, no?” she gritted, still looking out at the hall instead of him. 

He turned around to face the hall. 

“I mean, no, I refuse to get Sorted. I am eleven years old. Eleven. Why should I be stereotyped for the rest of my life just because of a random word spoken by a piece of talking haberdashery that should have been burned years ago or at the very least, disinfected in between each child to prevent a lice outbreak?” Elliot said. 

Hundreds of people were looking at him, shocked. Elliot knew that this was a centuries old tradition he was questioning quite publicly (he had been reading Hogwarts, A History), but clearly no one had ever thought to question it privately in the safety of their heads. Elliot wondered if this was how politicians convinced people; by saying something was a tradition and people unconditionally accepting it. 

“Get on the stool, Mr. Schafer,” the sorting supervisor said again, reaching out to grab him. Elliot moved away from her. 

“No,” he said, again. What part of no means no did these imbeciles not understand? Elliot had the horrifying thought that maybe Hogwarts didn’t teach about proper consent, and promptly banished the thought from his head. He had to focus on the issue at hand. 

“All Hogwarts students have been sorted by this hat, and you are no exception. Get on the stool,” she said. 

Elliot didn’t budge. They stood there at a standstill until the hat cracked. Literally, the hat’s crack began making motions that resembled someone talking. 

“It’s obvious what house this kid belongs to, he doesn’t need to wear me for me to tell. Such stubborness belongs in one place-- GRYFFINDOR!” roared the hat. 

Goldie’s words from earlier came back to him, like a particularly traumatic childhood memory: “Gryffindors are more brave than clever.”

Elliot walked numbly to the table decorated in red and gold and distantly registered “Luke Sunburn” and “Dale Wavechaser” also being sorted into Gryffindor. He didn’t hear the password when they went up to the common room, and he collapsed in his bed and drew his curtains lest the other boys in his dorm try to infect him with their stupid bravery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a thing that happened! more to follow. yes, serene will be in the universe, but it'll be a little later for Reasons. there are some things that are still to be established, concerning characters we have already run into, and i have to figure out how to incorporate that.   
> kudo and comment if you're enjoying the ride! every warm feeling goes directly to supporting your friendly neighboring author.


	3. nothing’s missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Elliot didn’t get punched for this, he was going to have to start observing the Sabbath in gratitude.

Elliot picked at his eggs, the next day at breakfast. He wondered briefly about who cooked food for the entire school, since it must be a rather large task, and figured that even magic probably couldn’t make food out of nothing. He made a note to look into that more later. 

A prefect, easily identified by the blindingly shiny badge declaring him prefect, was walking along the benches, handing out timetables. Elliot took his eagerly. He looked over it quickly, before frowning. 

“Excuse me,” Elliot called to the prefect. 

The prefect turned around, smiling genuinely. Elliot was taken aback at the look of sincere good will before he shook himself away from that distraction. 

“Where are our classes located? There aren’t any classroom numbers, and I don’t recall receiving a map,” Elliot asked. 

“Oh, there’s no map or class numbers,” the prefect answered, still smiling brightly. 

Elliot stared at him, until the other boy’s smile started to dim. 

“What?” Elliot asked. 

“There’s...no map or class numbers,” the prefect repeated. 

Elliot could see a metaphorical light bulb go off in the prefect’s head as the events of the sorting were remembered. 

“Then how do we get to classes? Does someone take us and show us around?” Elliot said, hoping against hope that that was the case. 

“No, of course. The teachers are far too busy for that, and anyone else would get house points taken off for showing up to class late,” the prefect answered, warily. 

“Do you mean to say that people have house points deducted for showing up to class late? And that most of the first years don’t know where classes are, so they’ll probably show up late and get penalized just for being new? What sort of school is this?” Elliot burst out with. 

The prefect open his mouth to answer, before glancing over Elliot’s head and rushing off it that direction. Elliot let the prefect go. Too many kids at Elliot’s old school had pulled of the same trick for Elliot to bother to do anything about it. 

He looked mournfully at all the breakfast foods before he got up from his bench and walked out of the Great Hall to go to the library. He had to ask several upperclassmen how to get there on his way up, and they watched him warily. He had already gotten himself a reputation, and the first day of school hadn’t even started. Elliot astonished himself sometimes, he really did. Once he got to the library, he took a moment to take it all in. The self-shelving books, the nooks and crannies. The librarian eyed him suspiciously, probably in part because Elliot was the only one there. 

“Hi,” Elliot said, smiling charmingly, hoping to get on the librarian’s good side. 

The librarian ignored Elliot, flipping another page in his book. Elliot blinked, before he barreled on. 

“So I was wondering if you knew of any maps of Hogwarts?” Elliot continued. 

The librarian took out another book from a drawer and opened it to the middle of the book. He read. Elliot stood there, smile straining. The librarian consulted the appendix. Elliot stood there, finally giving up on smiling. The librarian eventually looked up and frowned. 

“You’re still here? No, there aren’t any maps. Go away,” he said, grumpy, before turning back to his book. 

Elliot did not go away. He went to sit at one of the library tables and rummaged around in his book bag to get out the book Luke had accidentally given him. Noticing an irregularity in the book towards the end, Elliot opened the book to that page. It opened to a note and a blank piece of parchment. 

Elliot figured he probably shouldn’t read the note, but there were a lot of things Elliot shouldn’t do that he did anyway. 

_Luke,  
My friends and I found this helpful at Hogwarts. Just try to be a little more careful than your Poppy, eh? Use it well. _

Below it were directions for activating the blank parchment, whatever that meant. Elliot dutifully pointed his wand at the parchment and spoke the passphrase. He watched in  
wonder as a map slowly inked its way across the parchment. 

THE MARAUDER’S MAP, it declared itself. 

Elliot wasn’t sure if he should trust something named for thieves, but it was that or get detention, so he looked for the Transfiguration classroom, finding it quickly. He frowned.  
He could just go to class, but-- there were probably other kids just as confused as he was. He’d have to think of a reason as to why he had figured out Hogwarts’ layout when the other kids hadn’t, but he was good at lying. But-- these same kids would forget his help, would bully him tomorrow. And maybe he made himself an easy target, with his sharp edges and sharper tongue, but what was the point of doing the right thing when people would just forget about it the moment you pointed out something unpleasant. 

He checked his watch. It had stopped. Great. He didn’t understand what mages had against technology, but it was annoying him. He went up to the librarian and smiled as pleasantly as Elliot could. It felt weird. 

“Hello. What time is it?” he asked, almost sweetly. 

The librarian cast a spell too quickly and quietly for Elliot to catch the name of it, but he filed the information away for further research and noted he had an hour before his next class. He looked at the map again, sighed, and got out his notebook and a ballpoint pen. Thankfully, the pen still seemed to work. He made a note to procure a year’s supply the next time he was home. 

With 15 minutes to his next class, he made his way back to the Great Hall. Blondi-- Luke was still there, eating a bowl of porridge. Elliot sniffed. He didn’t understand how anyone could choose porridge over all of the other, more flavorful options at the breakfast table, but he charitably supposed that the clearly jockish Luke was following some strict diet to bulk up. Although how one bulked up by eating porridge escaped Elliot, but he did not care to spend more time than he needed to contemplating the inanities of an athlete’s life. It was more probably that Luke has bad taste, but Elliot was trying to be charitable here. 

It was generally a good idea to be nice to people you had accidentally stolen from, especially when you planned to hold the item in question for ransom in exchange for a favor. If Elliot didn’t get punched for this, he was going to have to start observing the Sabbath in gratitude. 

“Luke, can we talk?” he said, deciding temporarily to embrace the Gryffindor stereotype and get it all over with. 

His courage failed him as five pairs of eyes turned to him, including Luke’s. He cleared his throat and jerked his head towards the door to the Great Hall. Luke blinked at him, clearly confused. Elliot contemplated making the gesture again, but didn’t want to appear as though he was making a mockery of people with unfortunate tics, so he resigned himself to using his words. 

“Luke, may I talk to you alone?” he tried again, carefully not gritting his teeth. 

“I’m eating,” Luke said. 

“I’m aware. It’s important,” Elliot said. 

“Why would I want to talk to you? You’ve been nothing but rude to me,” Luke countered. 

“I know,” Elliot said, before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.” 

Luke paused, his spoon midway between his bowl (of porridge, Elliot was still offended by this, and he should let it go, but--why.) and his mouth. 

“All right,” Luke said, putting his spoon down and getting up. 

Elliot was still stuck on the porridge, and it took him a second to catch up to Luke’s longer legs, striding out of the Great Hall. 

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Luke said. 

Elliot was briefly dumbstruck, before he mentally shook himself out of it and forged onwards. 

“I accidentally grabbed your book when we collided at the station,” Elliot said. 

“Oh right. I’d forgotten abou-- wait, what do you mean you accidentally grabbed my book?” Luke replied. 

“I accidentally grabbed your book! And Poppy or whatever put this note in there for you, and ’llgvtbcktyfyprmsthtnnwllbllym” Elliot said. 

“Um,” Luke said. 

Elliot took a breath-- he was taking a lot of those, he noted idly-- and then repeated himself slower. 

“I’ll give it back to you if you promise that no one will bully me,” Elliot said. 

He had planned to make eye contact with Luke, but found himself too scared to at this key moment in the negotiation. He hoped it didn’t hurt his case. 

“Seriously? You don’t even know me. Why would you just assume I’d be mean to you? Or I’d let my friends be mean to you?” Luke gritted out. 

Elliot opened his mouth, but then closed it, sensing it would be better for him to be quiet. He felt sucker-punched. He hadn’t accounted for emotional punches when he made the Sabbath promised. Did it count? Luke ran an agitated hand through his blonde hair. 

“Whatever, sure, I promise, just give me my bloody book back,” Luke said tensely. 

Elliot quietly handed it over. Luke started walking away almost before his hand closed around the book. 

“Next time, try asking,” Luke called over his shoulder. 

Elliot stood there for a moment, before walking to class. He needed to stake out the best seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha. Ha. Ha. Ha.  
> Happy New Year? Sorry this is three months late? Life happened. Being an engineering student is fun, y'all. Please comment and kudo if you have the spoons-- it really helps motivate me to write more. Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> points for guessing correctly about work name+chapters name (you can only get one set of points once for each separate work, to be fair). 
> 
> also points for guessing who Poppy is. 
> 
> comment with one of your favorite minor characters from In Other Lands and your headcanons for which house they'd be in-- i want to include as many of them as i can, but planning the plot and various other things has left me with no time to reread the book and write down the names of every character we come across.


End file.
